I flipped around to face the lady again. The child stretched her arms, flexing fingers in Percy’s direction.
I asked, “Is the lizard yours?”
She recoiled. “No.” So she claimed but the kid kept repeating, “Mio. Mio.”
“Shh, Zaza,” the woman hissed. She went on a quick barrage of words I couldn’t follow that led to the kid’s face crumpling again.
Before the waterworks could start, I slammed the filled grocery bags into my cart and raced them out to my car. I didn’t do well with kids. Probably for the best, considering I couldn’t make any.
I hit the hardware store next, a small place unlike the big box stores I was used to back home. They had the basics I needed. Flashlight and batteries. A sturdy shovel that barely fit in the trunk. A few bags of sand. Lantern—because candles would extinguish if I took them outside and there was even a hint of a breeze. By the time I’d loaded all my purchases and headed out, the promised storm darkened the sky and the first white flakes began to fall though it was hours before expected. The hardware store clerk claimed the weather had been updated and we were going to be slammed.
Good to know, and good thing I already had chains on my tires because my Panda lacked four-wheel drive.
As my chugging little car made the trek back up the winding, narrow road, the snow thickened to the point I could barely see in front of me. The road also became icy, making me happy for the chains as they gave me the grip to keep climbing. Apparently, the person who’d skidded off the road and smacked a tree should have done the same. I slowed down to see if they needed a hand because, while not in the mood to be a good Samaritan, even I wouldn’t leave someone stranded in this kind of weather.
“Stay in the car where it’s warm,” I told Percy, sliding on my gloves before exiting the vehicle. The lizard climbed to the dash and watched me with, might I say, disapproval. Yeah, I didn’t want to be out here either, especially since the more time I wasted the worse the drive would get. At least I wasn’t too far from the chalet now.
I studied the status of the car as I neared it. The engine still ran despite the mangled bumper and crumpled hood. However, what made it undriveable? The passenger side tire had torn loose.
Someone hunched over the steering wheel and when I knocked on the window jumped hard enough, I thought they’d concuss themselves on the roof.
The window lowered and I recognized the woman from the store, minus the glasses, which it turned out hid a very shiny black eye.
Chapter Four
“You and the kid okay?” I asked, trying not to stare at her abused face. Given the way it changed color in places, it obviously hadn’t occurred during the crash.
Her lower lip quivered and she whispered, “We’re fine.”
I begged to differ. A peek in the back seat showed the kid wide-eyed and gnawing on a cookie.
“Front wheel is pretty much gone. You’re gonna need a tow truck,” I advised. “Have you called for one yet?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have a phone.”
Of all the dumb things… Heading out in a storm unprepared. Not my place to chastise, though. She looked beaten enough as it was. I whipped mine out only to frown. “Fuck. No signal. Will someone come looking for you when you don’t show up?” I sought a reason to leave before I fucked up my evening. Rescuing this woman and her child would cut into my moping and staring at a blank screen time.
She shook her head. “No. No one’s expecting us. Guess we’ll have to wait out the storm.”
“Yeah, that’s not a great plan. This storm is expected to last until tomorrow, at least. You can’t exactly stay in the car that long. You’ll freeze.”
“I can keep the motor running.”
“And die of carbon monoxide poisoning,” I barked more harshly than necessary.
“Oh.” Such a dejected sound. “I didn’t think of that. I’ll have to grab the blanket in the trunk,” she whispered with welling eyes.
Oh no. Not fucking tears.
“Don’t be stupid. A blanket won’t be enough.” I couldn’t muster a gentle tone as my irritation grew. Her cluelessness was really leaving me no choice.
“What else would you have me do?” she cried, her sharp query startling the baby in the back eating her cookie. The little one eyed me suspiciously and clutched her treat tighter. As if I’d steal that soggy hunk of mush.
“How far were you going?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know. Not far, I think. I’ve only been once before.”
Fuck me. I didn’t want to say it but look at her: A frail thing gripping the steering wheel tight but still not managing to hide her tremble. Her need. Her desperation.
